


From Russia With Love

by idleflower



Category: Blind Men (Visual Novel)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cold War, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Spies & Secret Agents, Supervillains, alternate perspective canon, or at least boyfriends, unfortunately the sharks probably don't survive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 19:13:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16624805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idleflower/pseuds/idleflower
Summary: The day everything went wrong (or was it right?) for a KGB agent. Mistaken identities, stolen diamonds, self-destruct sequences, hot men strapped to laboratory tables, and some endangered shirt buttons.This story intended to be accessible to those unfamiliar with the canon.





	From Russia With Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeadlyWeiss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadlyWeiss/gifts).



At last, the car's motor came to a noisy halt, and the battering ceased. Even on the smoother road surfaces of the West German autobahns, the trunk of an executive car was not a comfortable place to travel. He wondered idly what outpost had been chosen for this operation, as they clearly had not crossed a checkpoint back into Soviet territory. But it was not Sergei's job to wonder, as these little 're-education' sessions were quick to remind him. 

Underneath the rough canvas hood, Sergei allowed himself the brief pleasure of a smirk. They had moved so quickly at the museum, his captors. Someone was clearly over-eager to reveal him as a failure, disloyal, past his prime. How disappointed those KGB rivals would be when they discovered that, despite the aborted mission, despite the interference of the neophyte villain and that perverse GLOBAL agent, Sergei had accomplished his task? The Engelgauge Diamond was safely in his pocket. Whatever audience had been assembled for his humiliation would instead serve as witnesses to his skill.

But it would not do to tip his hand too early and spoil the show. He thrashed and kicked and swore as his handlers carried him none-too-gently to the interrogation zone. The ropes around his wrists and ankles were cut and replaced with metal bands likely designed for his enhancements. They were unimportant. Everything was still proceeding according to expectations.

A voice moved closer. Still speaking German, though indistinctly - which meant the audience for this little show must be more local, not anyone from Moskva.

"You have given us a lot of trouble - "

The canvas sack was yanked away from Sergei's head, leaving him staring into the eyes - eye! - of the last person he had expected to see.

It was that _runt_. The science student with the eyepatch who had confronted Sergei in the auditorium, wasting his time with irrelevant questions, before revealing himself as a would-be criminal mastermind. His henchmen had stirred up a bit of incompetent chaos, but not enough to stop Sergei from reaching the diamond.

He had already forgotten whatever ridiculous codename the boy had assigned himself.

" - Professor... Shultz?" His voice dropped away as he finished his sentence, his fair skin going even paler as he began to understand his mistake. Sergei was clearly not Professor Shultz, the German geology expert who had been giving a presentation on the diamond at the museum.

It was a _mistake._

"You," Sergei snarled.

If this wasn't a KGB operation, that meant Sergei had been captured by an enemy. And that, in turn, meant that as soon as anyone in the organisation got wind of it, he would be classified as compromised. A traitor. And his contract would be, as they said, terminated.

_Вот это пиздец!!_

Sergei hadn't lived this long by panicking easily, and he wasn't dead yet. Was there any way to salvage the situation?

He would have to get back in contact quickly, before reports could reach Moscow that he had gone rogue, and he would need a good explanation for what he had been doing. Something to make it seem that he had always been in control, that he had left the museum intentionally. Perhaps if the upstart had stolen the diamond, and Sergei had taken off after him, tailing him to his lair? If he brought back both the jewel and the fellow with the eyepatch - dead or alive - it might be enough. 

Dead. It would have to be dead, or he might give the lie to Sergei's story. 

Which was a pity, really. He'd seemed like someone who might be interesting, given half a chance.

Of course, he couldn't die right away. Sergei would need the 'mastermind' alive to direct his henchmen and get them safely out of this base. Threatening their leader would be the only reliable way through security. At least, since his capture was a mistake, that meant that they likely were not prepared for Sergei's particular talents. With a bit of luck, he could burst his bonds, seize the young German, and...

Fuck. He was gone.

While Sergei had been thinking up a plan, the young man had turned tail and fled, leaving the Russian alone with a flock of confused lower-rankers. None of whom would be sufficient leverage to get him a ticket out of here, much less back to the KGB.

Now what was he supposed to do?

* * *

Time passed, and the young man with the eyepatch did not return.

Every minute that passed itched like sweat running down Sergei's face. 

The henchmen milled about, keeping their distance. At one point, Sergei heard a gruff voice bark orders too indistinct for his German skills to translate, and the first shift of minions filed away, to be replaced with more muscled men bearing sidearms. Guards, obviously. At least they were taking him seriously as a threat.

Not that it would do much good when he was dead, an event that seemed likely to be sooner rather than later. If his captors didn't kill him out of hand, the KGB certainly would.

Funny to think that this was how his career would end. Funny. A properly Russian joke. Too bad he couldn't request some vodka and a cigarette.

The sound of a cleared throat roused Sergei from his dark thoughts. His captor had returned.

The young man stood in front of him, legs slightly apart to show that his feet were planted strongly on the ground, his one good eye fixed sternly on Sergei's. He did not speak.

Was he attempting a staring contest? This was ridiculous. He was barely more than a boy. Sergei could beat this fledgeling villain to death with both hands chained behind his back. He could probably eviscerate him using nothing more than the toes of one foot.

Unbidden, the corner of his scarred lip twitched into a smirk.

Under other circumstances, the boy might have been charming. The lines of his pale face were elegant, and his remaining eye a pleasantly stormy dark-gray. A faint scar emerging from beneath the black eyepatch made it clear that the patch was no affectation, but did not spoil his looks. He had changed out of his formal suit into a blue outfit with gold trim which gave the impression of an officer cadet. He was not overly muscular - the heavy lifting was obviously left to his guards and henchmen - but trim and well-proportioned.

No Russian man wore his hair long, but Sergei was well-traveled. He had met the wild Scandinavian men who hunted the winter woods, some of whom had hair much longer than this fellow's shoulder-length locks. Rather than looking feminine, it only added to the impression of his captor as a half-grown pup, reaching for an authority he did not yet have the strength to hold.

He held the boy's gaze easily, his own eyes promising the frost of a Russian winter, until, with a cough, the boy turned away.

"I suppose it wasn't so difficult for you to get out of your country after all," he started. "Being a KGB agent and everything."

Sergei said nothing. There was no point in denying it.

"But since you're here already, let's see what use we can find for you, shall we?" He tossed his dark hair back, attempting a confident smile. "Here's the deal. I need information, and you have it. If you answer my questions, I promise that I will let you go."

"I won't talk," Sergei scoffed. He was no weakling. He had been trained to resist interrogation. 

"Don't be like that. Let's be friends." He clasped his hands together. "What's your name?"

Did they really have no idea who he was? They hadn't even searched him! Sergei said nothing.

His captor tsked. "It's so tiring calling you nothing but 'The Russian', don't you think? You need a name. I could choose one for you, if you'd rather, but you'll feel better if you use your own. Here, I'll start. My name is Keegan. And you are?"

"Sergei," he grunted. It was the most popular men's name in all of Russia, it meant less than his KGB codename.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Keegan smiled. He seemed much more comfortable with the situation when he was smiling. "Now. Why don't you tell me about what you were doing at the museum?"

What he was doing? Sergei stared. Surely even a 'villain' incompetent enough to kidnap a Soviet operative when he'd meant to kidnap a mild-mannered professor could figure out _what he had been doing._ He'd come to steal the diamond! Was this nonsense some technique meant to make him drop his guard? Talk about the obvious until you let something slip? Well, then, he wouldn't.

"So, you don't want to talk?" Keegan shook his head. "Suit yourself. But I know what the KGB does to people who have failed them. And by allowing yourself to be captured, you've already failed."

It was probably true. It was all, already, too late. "You know nothing," Sergei snarled. 

"Don't I?" Keegan lowered his lashes, giving a knowing look. "I know that you have now what many people would risk everything for: a perfect chance to start over. A new beginning, away from everything. Your freedom. No one will ever know what happened to you, except for me. As far as the world is concerned, I killed you and disposed of the body." He laughed. "I could still do that. Frankly, I couldn't care less what happens to you. It doesn't matter. I don't need you dead. So why not make things easy for yourself? You just need to answer some questions, and then you'll be free. There's no need for you to die for your country."

Wasn't that the entire purpose of his life? To serve, and die, still loyal? "There always is."

Keegan raised his brows. "Don't you have any family? Anyone you care about? You could help them this way, too."

_Help_ them! Sergei stared. Was he that much of a fool, to have no idea what happened to the families of defectors?

"Send them things..." Keegan continued, waving a hand vaguely. "Nice things you can buy. From America, maybe."

The bargaining was so clumsy, Sergei felt honestly insulted.

After all, it was because of a defection that the KGB kept looking for an excuse to declare him a failure and reclaim their investments from his body. One traitor brought shame upon an entire family, made all their previous triumphs suspect. For Sergei, too, to turn his back upon his country? If his parents weren't already dead, it would certainly have killed them.

"Come now, Sergei, be reasonable," Keegan wheedled. "All I want is a bit of information. I'm not trying to bring down your government. I have my own interests."

That was obvious. Someone who proclaimed that his future was to be 'the greatest supervillain known to man' was not likely to hold loyalty to any country or creed. From his performance so far, it was not a goal he was likely to meet. What was the name he had called himself, again? Doktor Starfish?

Doctor Whatever was still talking. "Knowing what the KGB's plans were for that diamond, for instance, could be valuable to me. I doubt they wanted it only as a symbol of wealth. And in exchange, your life, which is valuable to you. We both win."

Valuable. That was the crux of it. That was all Keegan cared about. He'd intended to kidnap a professor and failed, and now he was trying to salvage the situation. Sergei had to stifle a laugh. There he was, with a priceless diamond in his pocket and some of the USSR's top scientific advances implanted in his flesh, and this young fool was bartering for scraps.

Looked at in that light, his duty became clear. He had to remove himself from this would-be villain's clutches and return to his contact. Even if he was 'decommissioned' after that, the diamond and his implants would be safely in Russian hands. He might die, but he would know that he had not failed, no matter what anyone else thought.

And the swiftest road to that outcome was to make Keegan believe that he was winning.

Sergei bit his lip, looking away, allowing a trace of hurt to come into his voice. "I have a sister. Mila. She was trained as a chess player, sent away to an international tournament. She never returned."

That was the truth. It wouldn't do to tell too many lies, not if he wanted Keegan to believe him. He and Mila had been close when they were very young, but their different talents pulled them apart. Sergei was called upon to follow his mother's example and train to become an operative, beginning with physical conditioning at a young age. Mila was more of a scholar, too fragile for combat. He had left her behind at home, with regret. Later, he had been pleased to hear of her success within the Soviet chess machine. He had thought she had found her own way to serve. But then, once she passed beyond the Iron Curtain, she turned her coat. If she had ever attempted to contact her family after that, the message had not made it past the censors.

"I have always wondered..." Sergei said, then cut himself off. It would not be believable to turn too soft, too fast. "But it doesn't matter. She was as good as dead to us the moment she left." It might be true. He did not know. Those who defected were sometimes 'cleaned up' as embarrassments, but if any such assignment had been handed out, it had been decided that he did not need to know. It was not his job to wonder. "... and yet..."

Now he could sound tempted, willing to bargain, because he had a use for his freedom. He would offer Keegan a few lies about the diamond and go on his way, to 'search for his sister'.

He looked up to see how his admission was being received, and blinked. Keegan's face looked oddly stricken.

"I'll - I can help you," he said, swallowing visibly. "I'll find out what happened to her. I promise. And - and then you can decide what you want to tell me."

He already had Sergei captive. Why was he offering him _more?_ "And I'm just supposed to believe you?" Sergei said, incredulous.

"Of course, you wouldn't..." Keegan began, then raised his chin. "But if we make a deal, and you live, then you can go find out for yourself whether I've told the truth." He laid a hand on Sergei's arm - the normal arm, not that he should have any reason to know the difference. "You'll see. I keep my promises."

"Boss - " someone out of Sergei's range of vision attempted to interject.

"Be quiet, if you don't want to end up feeding the sharks!" Keegan snapped. He turned back to Sergei and grinned. "I keep my promises _and_ my threats."

Sergei gave a slow nod.

Keegan pulled his hand away. "Are you comfortable? As comfortable as you can be, I mean. I won't let you up, and the guards will shoot you if you try to escape, so don't do anything stupid. But there's no need for you to suffer. I'll have someone bring you food and water. Do you need anything else?"

"... No," Sergei said.

"I'll leave them orders not to mistreat you. I'll be back as soon as I can." His smile fell away. "I'll find your family. I promise. I know what it means to... I know."

And then he walked away, leaving Sergei still strapped to the table, baffled. _You don't even know my family name!_ he wanted to protest. Or, perhaps, _Why are you doing this?_ It wasn't necessary! He'd been ready to make a deal, even if it was a lie. Was Keegan smarter than he looked? Could he tell that Sergei's capitulation was false? 

Or perhaps it was just as it seemed. Perhaps Keegan wanted to please him. 

Sergei couldn't remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to be _nice_ to him. Bribes, yes, pleading, flirtation - especially when that GLOBAL agent was around, the man could turn anything into an innuendo - but never did any party offer more than was required to make a bargain. Certainly his fellow agents would grant him no courtesy that he had not earned by great effort. Even his mother had always been sparing with her praise. She had been proud of his achievements, he was certain, but she always believed that he could do more. The standards she set for him were the same as she set for herself. Until the day she died, she served the Soviet Union.

That had always been Sergei's plan. To live and die in honorable service. He hadn't meant for the end to come so soon, but he was ready. His affairs, such as they were, were in order. His soul was in balance. 

He lay still. The guards stood over him, shifting slightly, but maintaining their attention. At least someone in this scenario knew how to fulfill a role.

In the distance, a door opened. Footsteps. Voices, far away, hard to make out.

" - us to bring food and water for the prisoner."

Mumbling.

"But the boss said to bring it."

Mumbling.

"But... isn't he dangerous?"

Mumbling.

"But the boss _said_ to make sure."

The nearly-inaudible argument continued for some time, before a nervous but otherwise nondescript henchman approached with a tray, guarded by the watchful eyes of the guards. None of them were willing to unfasten Sergei's arms, and thus, he had to consent to being laboriously hand-fed.

"If he gives you any trouble, shoot him," someone grumbled, out of eyesight.

"But the boss _said_..."

Sergei quietly sipped and nibbled as the appropriate items were placed in his mouth. In the back of his mind, his own voice was laughing. Incompetents? Loose cannons? An attempt to make Keegan look kinder by being 'meaner' in his absence? All of the above? They hadn't bothered to drug his food. They hadn't even bothered to salt his food to make him that much more grateful for the water.

This was what became of children raised in selfish capitalist societies. No discipline.

What must it be like, to be them?

For just a moment, Sergei let himself explore the possibilities. He had in his pocket a diamond of fabulous value. He was stronger and faster than any KGB agent who might be sent to collect him. He could strike out on his own, set up in business for himself, or retire to the beach and become a fisherman in Maine.

But no. He was a man who served a cause. He did not know how to live without a purpose, without orders to follow. And it was not his job to wonder. His soul was in balance.

... A splash of cold water poured down his shirt.

Sergei glared up into the eyes of a mortified - and clumsy - minion.

"Did he provoke you?" someone else asked. Likely it was the same henchman who had suggested shooting Sergei before.

"My hand slipped! You know, I was up late last night, and I slept on my arm funny, and I got a cramp in my wrist, and -"

"Clean him up, then. But watch him!"

"I'm fine," Sergei growled.

After more pointless squabbling, most of the minions made their exit, leaving Sergei once again alone with the guards.

What was taking Keegan so long? All he had to do was step out for a few minutes, then return with vague lies about Mila's safety, and then Sergei could give his own lies in exchange, and the deal would be complete. 

He didn't think he could actually locate and contact Mila, did he? While knowing absolutely nothing about her? Even with a government's resources, that could take weeks! But was Keegan mad enough to try it? If he had a villain's megalomania, and no sense of his own weaknesses... if he was obsessed with seeking Sergei's approval... he might be psychologically unable to admit defeat.

What if he really did find her? Could Sergei walk calmly to his death, knowing that his sister was alive and waiting for him?

Gah! It was impossible. He refused to play captive for days on end while this chaos around him preyed on his mind. It was a sure trip to madness. Every minute he remained captive made his odds worse. He made a bargain with himself. One more hour, he would wait. After that, he would take the risk of attempting escape.

Until then, he closed his eyes, ignoring the discomfort of his trapped limbs and the dampness of his clothing. Let them think him harmless, submissive. If they were all such fools as they seemed, they should believe it.

* * *

_Thud!_

Sergei was roused from his thoughts by something banging into the table hard enough to rattle his head. "Bozhe moi," he grumbled without thinking. It was a single table in a large laboratory, surrounded by open space, could these idiots not even manage to walk around it?

"What'd he say?" asked one of the guards.

"He called you an ugly pig," answered someone standing behind Sergei's head, out of sight. Had he lost track of how many people were in the room? He twisted his head back and forth, but he could only see the two guards, near-identical in their outfits and their expressions of puzzled annoyance.

"Which one of us?" the guard on the right asked.

"I don't know, ask him," said the unseen speaker. Was that the person who had bumped into the table? Whoever it was, he was being careful not to come into Sergei's range of vision.

"Hey!" the guard on the left said, poking Sergei's leg. "Which one of us you callin' ugly?"

"I never said that," Sergei glared, hoping to intimidate him into silence.

"Did too!"

"Must have meant you!" jibed his companion.

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

How did anything ever get done when this was the caliber of help?

As the guards continued to bicker, a telephone rang. Footsteps moved away from Sergei's position. He couldn't make out the conversation over the argument, but he didn't think the unseen henchman was pleased about it.

"New plan," said the henchman. "Boss says he wants this guy ready to go. Go down to the garage and get a car fired up."

"But we're supposed to guard - "

"Bosses' orders," the henchman snapped.

Sergei frowned. There was something about that voice. The accent? The tone?

The henchman stepped forward, visible at last. And just as Sergei's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, the man lunged forward and jammed a thick wad of red cloth between his teeth, muffling him.

"Go and get the car ready," repeated the henchman, as he tightened Sergei's gag. "Boss wants him tied and blindfolded for delivery. I can handle that."

And after that, the two guards exited, leaving Sergei alone with - 

"It's been a long time, comrade. But you do know who I am, don't you?" said his fellow Russian. Yakov smiled, that same jovial, hapless-looking smile that had made him useful as an infiltration agent. No one ever expected that dummkopf face to be plotting against them. Not even the KGB, back when he'd worked for them, before striking out for himself. "I can't have you blowing my cover. Not after I've spent this long getting close to Sphinx. So I'm afraid you'll have to go."

Sphinx? Sergei tried to remember if he'd ever heard of a Sphinx. That was definitely not Keegan's title. Considering Keegan's abilities, it wouldn't have taken a long game to entrap him, either.

"I've heard stories about you. Heard you wrestled a bear. Let's see how you handle a shark." Yakov laughed. "You're going to have a little accident while trying to escape."

'Ridiculous' no longer seemed sufficient to cover the situation. First Sergei's career was ruined because an incompetent villain couldn't tell him apart from a German scientist in a dark room. Now he would meet an ignominious death because, by ridiculous mischance, he happened to be able to identify someone else infiltrating that operation? What was the point of doing everything right if the world was this... stupid?

Yakov pushed a button on the lab controls, adjusting Sergei's position so he could cuff his hands behind his back before unlocking his legs. "Move." Sergei promptly rolled over and fell to the ground in a heavy heap. Yakov swore under his breath and began trying to wrestle Sergei's passively-resisting body up to his feet. 

_What do I do?_

It had, indeed, been a long time since they worked together. Yakov didn't know about Sergei's upgrades, or he would have used something stronger than simple handcuffs. He could break free. In one-on-one combat, he could easily take down his former compatriot. Yakov's neck was not too thick to be snapped. But where would that leave Sergei? Alone in a base where he didn't know the keycodes for the doors, and with a dead 'henchman' at his feet. Not the best position to talk his way out of.

On the other hand, he wasn't keen on the prospect of wrestling with a shark.

Sergei was on his feet now, held up by the painful twist of his arms as Yakov pushed him towards one of the exits, but he dragged his heels as much as possible. The best leverage would be witnesses. If he could slow things down long enough for someone else to come...

"What are you doing?" someone yelled.

Yakov turned back, his annoyed expression quickly fading to apologetic as he recognised Keegan.

_Am I saved?_

"I told you to take him down to the garage!" Keegan continued.

Yakov wrinkled his nose, sheepish. "Boss, I thought - "

"I don't care what you thought! Do I have to do everything myself?" Keegan shook his head. "Move aside. I'm escorting him on my own."

Yakov stood firm, looking perplexed. Muttering in exasperation, Keegan marched up and grabbed the back of Sergei's coat collar, though he had to reach up to do it, considering how much shorter he was. He tugged, and Yakov reluctantly let go.

With his now-somewhat-more-cooperative burden in tow, Keegan began to walk towards a different door.

Yakov suddenly walked ahead of them both and slammed his hand on the controls, changing the door's indicator light from green to red.

More annoyed than anything else, Keegan asked, "Now what do you think you're doing?"

"Something I tried very hard to avoid," Yakov said grimly. 

If Sergei could have sighed past the gag, he would have. Of course things would turn worse. Trouble never came alone.

"You just couldn't kill him, could you?" Yakov complained. "All you had to do was torture some information out of him and end it quickly. But no. You had to go and make everything more difficult. And now I'll have to kill you both!"

He reached into his jacket, pulling out a pistol, and pointed it at the two of them. Stunned, Keegan let go of his grip on Sergei's coat and took a step back, raising his hands. Yakov's gun twitched, wavering between the two targets.

That distraction seemed to be the best moment Sergei was going to get. Flexing the hydraulics in his cybernetic arm, he snapped the handcuff chain and lunged for Yakov. One now-free arm wrapped around the other Russian, pulling his gun arm up off-target and applying a choking pressure to his neck. With his other hand, he ripped the cloth gag out of his mouth. "Quick, open the door!"

Keegan fumbled with the doorpad, producing a series of beeping sounds, but no reassuring whoosh of a door opening. Sergei couldn't spare any further attention to his actions, for Yakov was proving more difficult to subdue than he'd expected. With the urgent need to stop the gun first, Sergei had not gotten the best position for his hold, and he dared not let go and begin the grappling over again, especially when -

_Whoof!_

Yakov drove his elbow so hard into Sergei's unaugmented gut that he was forced to stumble backwards, gasping for breath. Which meant that his opponent was now free to use his - 

_Bang!_

But the gun that fired was not Yakov's. Instead, it was held in Keegan's trembling hands. Unfortunately, whether due to inexperience or poor depth perception, he did not even wing his target, but the traitorous henchman was temporarily startled. Gathering his breath, Sergei leapt into action. He flipped the large metal table onto its side, then dove behind it for cover. A heartbeat later, Keegan followed. At least he had that much sense.

Sergei reached over and snatched the gun from Keegan's grip.

"Hey!" 

"The one of us who can actually hit a target at point-blank range gets the weapon," Sergei growled. "Especially when we have only five bullets left. Now don't move." He leaned to the side slightly, just enough to get a view past the table. "Fuck. I can't see him anymore." The doors were still closed, so he was probably in the lab, but hidden behind other equipment. And he knew the room's layout better than Sergei, who had been trapped flat on his back most of the day.

Keegan bit his lip, his hair falling forward over his bad eye. "You two know each other, don't you?"

Sergei looked back at him for a moment, then resumed scanning the lab as best he could. At last, he sighed. "His name is Yakov. We used to work together, many years ago, before he defected. I had heard rumors that he had become a bounty hunter, but I did not wish to believe them."

"A bounty hunter?" Keegan repeated, incredulous.

"He captures targets alive for reward. Agents, spies. He works for anyone who will pay him, then betrays them for a higher bid. He has no loyalty to anyone. He brings shame to the entire Soviet Union," Sergei said.

"But that's impossible!" Keegan said. "He's been here for months. I conducted the hiring interview myself. I would have noticed anything suspicious."

Sergei gave him a withering look. Keegan squirmed. "All right, he is shooting at us, but that doesn't prove he's after some bounty."

Sergei said, "He said his contract was for someone called Sphinx."

"Uncle!" Keegan yelped, then clapped a hand over his mouth.

"He came here for your uncle?" Sergei asked, the pieces starting to fall into place. That was how someone so young and inexperienced could have a base of operations and a gaggle of henchmen, and why he would be so eager to prove himself. He was in the family business. It was a motivation Sergei could appreciate, even if Keegan did not seem particularly well-suited to it. Perhaps especially then, for it showed how hard he was trying.

"Do you really want to talk about this right _now_?" said Keegan.

"Yes!" Although even Sergei wasn't quite sure why it mattered. All of his plans kept falling apart. 

Before Keegan could answer, they were interrupted by the shrill blast of an alarm, and the harsh white lighting of the lab was replaced by intermittent flashes of red.

"What is that?"

"That's why he didn't shoot at us when we ran to hide," Keegan groaned. "It's the evacuation alarm!"

"And that can be triggered from any room? Is it just a warning to evacuate?"

"Any room by anyone with a code, or it wouldn't do much good, would it?" Keegan said. "But once it's activated, it purges everything inside the base... It's basically a self-destruct sequence."

If the heavens couldn't kill Sergei with poison or sharks or guns or explosions, they seemed determined to do so through sheer frustration. "How long do we have?"

"About twenty minutes, give or take, it depends on how much data the computer has to erase," said Keegan, his eye twitching. After a moment, he swallowed. "There's nothing I can do to stop the alarm, but I can use a different code to force open the door. Then we can get out of here."

"Good," Sergei said. "Stand up, then."

"What?"

"If he doesn't shoot, he's gone. If he shoots, I can spot his position, and shoot back."

"Except then he'll have _shot_ me!" Keegan protested.

Sergei growled at him, and the younger man winced, then gave a silent nod. In truth, it was a risky action. If Keegan was taken out, Sergei would be trapped. But he was short on time and options, and he knew that Yakov had never been highly rated as a marksman. His odds of a kill shot were very low. Probably.

To his credit, once the course was decided, Keegan didn't hesitate. He rose to his feet. Seconds later, a shot rang out. Sergei whirled in the direction of the noise, firing his own gun twice in rapid succession. The bullets tore through Yakov's right arm and leg, and he fell to the ground, his weapon sliding from his fingers. Sergei ran towards him, kicking the dropped gun far out of reach, then dragging Yakov away from the lab machines, just in case he intended to unleash any further surprises.

Only when he had the situation secure did he turn back to check on Keegan.

The young man was standing by the door, entering long strings of numbers without hesitation. Perhaps, like Mila, his gifts lay more in mental challenges. His blue outfit was torn along one arm where a shot might have grazed him, but it didn't appear to be slowing him down. 

"Done," Keegan said. "Let's get out of here."

"What do you want to do with him?" Sergei asked, indicating Yakov. 

The bounty hunter lay on the floor clutching at his leg wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding, but a great deal of red already stained his fingers and clothing. Keegan looked slightly green at the sight. "I suppose we should take him with us to interrogate later," he said. He stepped closer, trying to put forward a menacing scowl as he stood over his 'henchman'. "You're lucky Sphinx isn't here to deal with you."

"Are you sure he isn't?" smirked Yakov. "Do you really think he would leave the only child of his dead brother all alone to carry out a dangerous plan? Are you sure he isn't in this base now? Have you heard from him since you brought your Russian playmate home?"

"Mantis has," Keegan said, his voice uncertain.

Mantis. Madam Mantis? Sergei thought he had heard of a villain by that name, but he had never met the woman.

"Are you sure?" Yakov repeated, his smile widening. "And are you sure I haven't done anything else you don't know about?"

Keegan didn't answer.

"We both know your uncle's quarters are all the way on the other side of the base from the hangar," Yakov said. "And thanks to Sergei here, I can't walk on my own. If you want to take me in alive, and impress the League of Evil, you'll have enough time if you leave now, but not if you have to drag me all over the base searching for your uncle. You'll have to leave me here."

"I could let Sergei take you," Keegan said. "He looks about as upset as I feel."

"Sure, leave the two Soviets alone together in your secret base!" Yakov laughed. "What could go wrong?"

"Why are you trying to provoke me? If I leave you here during the self-destruct, you'll die."

"But he'll die feeling like he's won," Sergei said. "It is... a very Russian thing." He looked at Keegan. Had he judged the boy's character rightly?

"Damn," Keegan muttered. He shook his head. "Sergei, if we make it out of here, I'll keep my word and let you go and tell you what I know about your sister. But right now, I need to be sure my uncle is safe. Just... just leave him here."

"You're wrong," Sergei said. He slammed the butt of the gun in his hand against Yakov's head, knocking him senseless, then knelt down to throw the man's limp body over his shoulder. "I'm stronger than I look. I can keep up. Lead the way. Go!"

Keegan didn't argue, but hurried out through the now-open door. 

Outside the laboratory, the base was in total chaos. Henchmen were running back and forth, some carrying stacks of paper, others moving equipment. They paid no attention to the two moving through their midst, not even with Yakov's blood staining Sergei's coat. Keegan grabbed hold of the uniform of one of the scurrying techs. "When and where was the last time you saw my uncle?"

"At his office, sir," the tech replied. "Two minutes ago! He was with Mantis."

Most likely safe and well, then, but now that the fear had been roused, Sergei doubted Keegan would accept anything but the proof of his own eyes. 

He pushed through the crowds of busy minions, leading the way to a nicely-appointed office. Inside, a bald man was emptying out the drawers of a desk, while a buxom woman in a tight green dress leaned over a computer, typing at furious speed. Keegan let out a sigh of relief, which was just loud enough to draw their attention. The woman looked up only for a minute, but the man rushed over to meet him. Coming close, he placed his hands on Keegan's shoulders, and then began to shake him back and forth.

"Of all the irresponsible things you've done, this is by far the worst!" the man snapped. "How did you even manage to activate the alarm?"

"I didn't!" Keegan protested.

"Then who did? Because as far as I know, nobody else would dare touch it!"

The woman in green, most likely Madam Mantis, snapped her fingers, drawing their attention. She waved a diskette in the air. "Boys, please. You can fight all you want when we aren't about to blow up. Sphinx - it's ready now."

Sphinx nodded, grabbing a box of the items he had collected and storming out of the office, though not without shooting another disapproving glare at Keegan. Mantis, however, lingered, brushing her generous curves up against Keegan's side, which only appeared to make him uncomfortable. "Is that your Russian?" she purred. "If you'd told me he looked like _that_ , I would have wanted to keep him for myself."

"It's not like that!" Keegan said, his pale cheeks pinking.

"Oh?"

"Mantis!" Sphinx snapped from further ahead, and she, Keegan, and Sergei hurried after him.

They proceeded toward the hangar, with the older man still complaining.

" - can kiss any chance of entering the League of Evil goodbye for at least a decade after this debacle," Sphinx grumbled. "We'll have to rebuild half the base, and with nothing at all to show for it - "

"There is something," Sergei interrupted. "Your nephew discovered a traitor in your ranks and captured him for interrogation." He indicated Yakov with a tip of his head. "This man is a bounty hunter. He is the one that set off your alarm."

Sphinx paused at that, staring at Sergei with suspicion. "Who are you?"

"A KGB agent," Keegan began to explain.

" _Ex_ -KGB," Sergei said, and just like that, it was true. 

"He turned you!" Mantis said, and clapped her hands together, causing her bosom to leap. Only Sphinx's eye was drawn by the display.

"I am... considering my options," Sergei said.

"Perhaps he's just the boost that Keegan needs," Mantis cooed.

"Replacing one henchman with another is not worth destroying my base!" said Sphinx. "You were only renting the base and the men, remember? You were supposed to pay for this with your profits - "

"Uncle, I'm sorry, but can we please talk about this later?" Keegan said. "We need to go."

Sphinx had not become an international terror by being stupid. He returned his attention to directing his men as they loaded up the vehicles for departure. Before the countdown concluded, they left the base behind.

* * *

Established villains always had boltholes. Sphinx and his entourage set up 'camp' in an old German farmhouse that passed for a bed-and-breakfast gone perpetually out of season. The furnishings were sparse and the rooms limited, but a wink and a nudge from Madam Mantis saw Keegan and Sergei assigned to share quarters. The Russian reflected that he'd slept in far worse places. It wasn't even below freezing.

Keegan shook out the blanket atop the dead, although it had not been visibly dusty, and sat on the bed, his lips pinched together. He had spoken very little during their flight. It seemed out of character, although Sergei admitted he did not know everything about his companion's character just yet. But if appearances could be believed, he was in low spirits.

"Was everything destroyed?" Sergei asked. "I did not hear enough explosion to take down such a building, but..."

"No. That wasn't the idea," Keegan said. "Blowing the whole place sky high would attract too much attention. It's only a trap." He held his hands up straight, then tilted them perpendicular, to demonstrate collapsing walls. "Explosives in the ceilings drop slabs. Then the poison gas pours down to scour away fingerprints and hair. After that, there's some fire." He shrugged. "Should be enough to kill off most invading agents, and since the computers and so on _are_ destroyed, any survivors won't find much. But the base is still there, and we can rebuild." He paused for a moment. "Too bad about the sharks."

"You were fond of them?"

"Not really, but they're expensive and hard to transport, and we'll have to start all over with training." Keegan shrugged again, looking down. "You can't have a supervillain's lair without a shark tank."

"Hmm," Sergei said. "Tell me. Why do you wish to be a 'supervillain'?"

Keegan looked up. "Because of my family!"

"Just to please your uncle?" Sergei asked. He knew the limits of that motivation. _Forgive me, Mother... Forgive us both._

Keegan smirked. "Not at all. He keeps trying to talk me out of it. Wants me to go to university in America and get a degree in engineering, as if I didn't already know more than they could teach. I'd be wasted there." He put his hands on the bed beside him, his shoulders relaxing. "My uncle is my inspiration. He's strong, powerful, in control. I want to be like that. I want to join the League of Evil to be part of the select few who know what's really happening in the world. That's power, to know things no one else does."

It would be good to know things, Sergei considered. For so long, he had lived on a basis of only what he 'needed' to know.

Keegan looked up at the ceiling. "When I was just a little boy, there was a car accident. I lost my parents, and my face was destroyed," he said, gesturing at the eyepatch. "But it marked me for greater things. I can never be one of the normal people. I'm not like them. They are fools who seek to destroy what they don't understand."

"I, too, have scars," Sergei said.

"You mean that little mark on your lip? I don't think that made you an outcast."

"No," said Sergei, and began to unfasten the buttons of his shirt. 

Keegan blinked in surprise, but did not demand that he stop - and did not look away.

Sergei cast the clothing aside, revealing the muscles of his chest, the fine patterns of golden-brown hair that pointed down towards his navel, and the clear seam around his shoulder where his prosthetic arm was joined to his skeleture. "My spine and my shoulder were enhanced. My arm, completely replaced. The hydraulics make me stronger, faster." He turned his arm over, spreading the fingers of his hand. "False skin. Good enough for the times when someone sees past my gloves. But my shoulder, I cannot hide, and this 'skin' will never color."

"No sunbathing for you," Keegan said, staring. His eyes were not on the dark pink nipples, but the moving 'muscles' of Sergei's arm. "So that's why all your files were so heavily classified. You were a secret weapon! The advancements you represent, you're more valuable than I imagined..."

"Does that mean you wish to keep me?" Sergei asked, his tone light.

Keegan's fair skin quickly colored. "I - " He tore his gaze away. "You're free to go, whatever my uncle thinks. I gave my word. Your sister - there were records that she moved to the States and was given a new identity. That's all I could find with my access. I don't know where she lives or what name she uses now, but as far as I know, she's alive."

"Would the League of Evil be able to find out more?"

"Probably," Keegan said. "But as you heard, I'm _not_ a member." He tugged at his sleeves, adjusting the line of his uniform, not looking at Sergei. "So if you want to find her, that's the direction you should go."

"So you do not wish to retain my services?"

"I don't want to force you into it."

Sergei's scarred lip twitched. "Strange words for a man who calls himself a villain."

That stung him into looking up again. "Henchmen should _always_ be willing and eager. Someone who wants the job will go above and beyond for the job. A reluctant workforce is a weak workforce."

"Ah! You have spirit," Sergei smiled. "But you need a strong right hand. A brawn to your brain." And a voice of experience and common sense, though such sense forbade pointing it out. "I believe you have an opening for a second-in-command."

"That... is true." Keegan took a breath. "What do you get out of this deal?"

"A new base of operations." And a home, and a purpose... things he had lost, and did not wish to be without. There were worse leaders to follow than a man who was loyal to his family. "Your assistance with my arm. I need an engineer to maintain it, and to remove the KGB tracking device."

Keegan blinked. "Ah... how urgent is that?"

"Do you have tools?" It hadn't mattered, when Sergei had been planning to return to his handlers. Now that he was considering the prospect of life... "The power signature is not high, or it would be too easily detected by foreign security. Short-range only. It is mostly for tracking progress during an operation. Or finding a body."

"It can wait until we are back at a lab, then." Keegan relaxed. "Is there anything else you want?"

Sergei crossed the room, moving into Keegan's space. He stood over the younger man where he sat on the bed, forcing Keegan to look up past his bare chest and into his steely eyes. "The resources of the League of Evil to help me find my sister, when you become a member." He paused for a moment, tallying the speed of Keegan's breathing. "And _you._ "

Keegan sucked in air.

Sergei did not lunge for him. A wise man did not startle a spy - or a villain. He let his fingers curl into Keegan's epaulets as he bent to bring their faces closer to each other, as close as possible without actually touching. Then, taking silence as permission, he brought their lips together.

Keegan kissed like he talked - more earnest than experienced, but not completely without a clue. The first kiss was little more than a tantalising graze, but it soon led to something deeper: the warmth of his tongue, the reassuring scrape of stubble against his chin. Sergei brought his hand - his unaltered hand - to the back of Keegan's neck and rubbed gently, feeling the silk of his hair against his skin, pulling him in. The kiss was not a battle, it was an agreement, both of them searching and both of them found.

They parted for air, breathing roughly. "So," Keegan started, then paused to clear his throat. He let his gaze wander along the topography of Sergei's exposed abs. "Do you have any _other_ enhancements?"

"Ah." Sergei took a step backwards, then fumbled for his lost shirt. "N-no," he managed, rubbing his hand behind his head.

"Really? Because I think some experiments might be in order," Keegan grinned. "In the name of scientific cooperation."

"This is not the time," Sergei said, trying to control his fingers enough to get buttons into holes without tearing. "Your uncle is nearby."

"Don't tell me you're afraid of him?" Keegan said, standing up and posing by the bed. "Just because the last man I fooled around with ended up feeding the sharks?"

Sergei froze. "That is a joke, yes?"

Keegan waved a hand. "I think it had more to do with my being fifteen at the time than my being gay. He's protective." He raised his eyebrows. "Big bad Russian doesn't like the taste of danger?"

Sergei groaned. "You _are_ a villain."

"Why, thank you," said Keegan, and tossed his head back.

Still readjusting his clothing, Sergei paused as his fingers brushed across the hard lump concealed within his pocket: the almost-forgotten Engelauge Diamond.

No. This was not the time to bring that out.

But he couldn't wait to see Keegan's face when he presented it to him on their first official date.


End file.
